What Today Reaps
by ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo
Summary: AU. The world as they know it is thrown into chaos. The earth is revolting, sending disaster after disaster upon the civilized world, crippling the few who survive. A small group of students bands together in hope of rescue. When they are trapped in a dead city that grows deadlier by the minute, how long before hopelessness sets in? e/e & courf/ferre (plus plenty others).
1. Chapter 1

**This a 'the day after tomorrow' AU. If you haven't seen it, I RECOMMEND IT. I was literally on the edge of my seat the entire movie. Besides, young Jake Gyllenhall is a total babe. **

**Anywho, as most of my newer fics do, I have my own headcannons for some things! Unfortunately, my fav (femme!feyrac) was not added :(**

**a) Jean Valjean is Morgan Freeman**

**b) The Thernardier family is latino  
**

**c) femme!feuilly/azelma**

**okayyyyy so there's a lot of sciency stuff in this. This chapter will be the sort of precedence to the second and then the third will be the aftermath. Sooo yeah. **

* * *

Valjean enjoys his work; it allows him time to himself without having to interact too often with the other government scientists. He is slightly terrified that one of them will dig up his past as a hippie-esque anti-science protester. However, at the moment there is a bigger fear. As he goes to the white house for his meeting with vice president Javert, he clutches his briefcase.

How is one to tell the world that it has been discovered how the earth's next great phase will come about?

"Valjean," Javert greets him on the steps. Cordially, the two men shake hands. Valjean is lead inside and to Javert's office. "As always, a pleasure."

"I'm here to discuss global warming," Valjean begins. Javert's already stiff face hardens.

"You may as well leave right now," Javert snapped. "That foolishness is just that… foolishness."

"Don't you know how the last ice age began, Mr. Javert?" Valjean stands up to allow his dominance over the red-haired man. Now that he has considerable leverage, Valjean notes that Javert's age may not show in his face or complexion, but he is balding. "It began due to the melting of the polar ice caps. _Global warming_-"

"Bullshit!" Javert stands as well. "How can an _ice_ age be caused by global _warming_?"

"The melting of the ice caps sent fresh water into the ocean. See, maritime salination must be kept at a delicate balance, otherwise the climate of the world is affected by natural disasters, eventually resulting in an ice age," Valjean is momentarily pleased when Javert seems to think it over for a few moments.

"I don't need to hear any of this. Good day, Mr. Valjean,"

With that, Valjean is dismissed.

* * *

"You can't bring that dog in here," the officer steps in front of Gavroche, who looks up with defiance in his eyes.

"It's a _public_ library!" He snaps. At the boy's side, Granterrier whimpers. Gavroche soothes his dog's head and dejectedly leaves the building. Outside the rain comes down almost gently, kissing the city. The dog is named for Gavroche, Éponine and Azelma's cousin Grantaire, who actually resembles the terrier to a certain extent.

"Sorry about that, Terri," Gavroche says in a puppy voice. "They just don't understand us."

The dog's dumb brown eyes blink back up at him. Gavroche smiles a smile that is missing several teeth. His tongue tickles one of the holes as he gives his dog the same look that is hitting him.

"Gavroche!" Azelma's voice comes from nowhere. "Come _on_, we volunteered to help set up the History conference!"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember." Gavroche sulked. "How come we have to set up for these rich kids?"

"'Ponine is one of those kids," Azelma scolds. Gavroche shrugs.

"But she ain't rich," he points out. His sister frowns, her sulky face cut into unattractive lines and shadows. Her dark hair is frizzy around her head, and Gavroche's only slightly lighter hair is probably not much better.

"Yeah, don't remind me," Azelma snaps. "Now, come _on_. And leave Granterrier."

"Aw, do I have to?" He complains. Azelma rolls her eyes.

"Yes," her voice is curt but gentle at the same time. "Did you really think that they'd let a dog into a fancy private school?"

Gavroche sulks. "No," he looks back at the simpering dog. "See you later buddy. Go!"

On cue, the dog scampers off to rummage around the city until Gavroche comes back for him.

* * *

"Is this true?" Valjean's usually gentle demeanor is stormier. Fantine hears it over the phone and sighs.

"Yes it's true. I'm assuming the meeting with the vice president didn't go too well?"

"No, it didn't, but that is not the main issue. Does Cosette really have an F? In _calculus_?" Valjean asks incredulously. Fantine looks over to where her pretty daughter is spooning yogurt into her mouth and reading something on her phone.

"She's a teenager, Jean. They're not always perfect, you know," Fantine chastises. "I certainly wasn't."

"Yes, I know. That is why we're having this issue in the first place," Valjean said. "Look, Fantine, I don't expect her to be perfect, but Cosette is an all A student. Why would she suddenly fail a class, least of all one she excels in without effort?"

"I don't know, you can talk to her when you bring her to the airport," Fantine reminds him.

"Right. For her AP History field trip to New York?" Valjean asks. Fantine nods, forgetting for a moment that her husband cannot see her.

"Yes, that's the one. You'll be there?"

"Yes, of course."

* * *

"I hate you," Éponine scowls, slamming the chair into its place against the table. The boy a few tables away from her does the same, frowning. His hair is slicked back and he wears a crisp suit.

"You've said that three times already," Enjolras points out. Éponine mocks him with her lips without making anything sound except for an annoying whine. He scowls at this. "Oh, shut up."

"It's true," she shoots back. "And anyway, you already graduated. Why are you here again?"

"I'm a history major," Enjolras rolls his eyes. "I get extra credit helping out here. Your principal is an NYU alumni."

"Yeah, I know, he says it enough," Éponine mutters. "I can't wait for you to go back to your precious little college," she snaps.

"And I can't wait to go back," he hisses. They end up much closer than when they began, their noses practically touching. When they become aware of their close proximity, they leap away.

"I don't know what Grantaire sees in you," Éponine seethes.

"Where is he, by the way? Shouldn't he be here too?"

"He's visiting our Abuela in México city," she says. "He was pretty pissed that you didn't say goodbye,"

"Look, your cousin has lots of potential but he wastes it on drinking," Enjolras sighs. "I don't know how he thought I would react at th—"

"At his confession of love? Yeah, he didn't see that coming."

"Miss Thérnardier? Mister Enjolras? Are you two quite done? We need someone to help set up the name plates," Éponine's teacher calls. She raises her hand.

"I'll do it, perhaps a change of company would be… ideal," as she leaves, she casts one more scathing look at Enjolras. He makes a face right back.

* * *

"I haven't seen this much rain in ages," Azelma comments, taking a deep inhale of the cigarette. She stands comfortably under an awning, very much aware of the handsome boy that stands next to her. He is dapper in a new tuxedo, the fabric of which conceals his gutter origins. His green eyes sparkle as they take a good look at the rain.

"Something's coming," he comments. Montparnasse snatches the stick from the girl's fingers and takes another inhale. "Don't know what it is, but it's going to be big."

"What do you predict?" Azelma asks with limited curiosity. Montparnasse purses his lips and throws the cigarette to the ground. The glowing tip is dimmed upon contact with the wet ground. He grinds what remains into the pavement with the heel of his loafer.

"A disaster," a sadistic smile spreads across his face, "Lord knows we need something soon, there are too many people in New York."

Azelma scoffs. "You're morbid. Are we going to pick up girls or what?"

"Sure," Montparnasse looks at the sky one more time before turning to his childhood friend. "Let's go."

* * *

"Marius, _breathe_. The chances of a plane going down because of turbulence are like one in a trillion. Or is it mi—"

"Shut up, Courfeyrac," Cosette hisses. One of her hands goes to Marius's arm in comfort. The boy is stiff in his chair, clutching his hands in his lap. "It's going to be fine, Marius," she tells him soothingly.

He looks over to her and smiles gratefully. Cosette feels her heart flutter. Just then, the plane hits another pocket of rough air and their world begins to shake. The lights flicker on and off, and Cosette can hear a child sobbing from somewhere far behind her. Terrified, Marius's hands shoot to his armrests, one of his hands trapping Cosette's. He presses her hand into the armrest and she presses back, breathing evenly.

Even Courfeyrac is tense beside her, but she manages to stay calm, watching the chaos on the plane. As soon as the air smoothes out, their oxygen masks drop in front of them, causing Marius and Courfeyrac to jump in surprise.

"Everything's fine," Cosette assures them. "Now can I have my hand back?"

Marius pulls his hand away hurriedly. His face is set alight with a rosy glow. "Sorry," he murmurs. Cosette withholds a laugh. He is adorable when he is flustered.

"See, Marius?" Courfeyrac leans across her lap. "One in a trillion."

Cosette snaps her head towards him. "Courfeyrac, _shut up!_"

* * *

"Woah," Favourite says with wonder as she looks at the map. "This is huge. Call Tholomyes! We need to issue a tornado warning."

"Really? _Here_?" her coworker asks.

"Yes, now please." Favourite waits with her hand held out until there is a ringing phone placed there. "Tholomyes, issue a warning right now."

Her boss's voice is tired. "For what?"

"Tornado," she says in a clipped voice. "It's a huge storm mass headed straight for downtown."

"Right. I'll be sure to do that," on his end of the phone, there is suddenly a loud static noise. Wincing, Favourite moves the phone away from her ear. "Holy shit!" she hears her boss curse. "Was that an earthquake too?"

"Hey, Favi, the seismometer's going _crazy_!" her coworker shouts. Favourite curses.

"Yep," she tells him. "We've got an interesting night tonight in Los Angeles."

* * *

A man in Tokyo looks up at the sky. A piece of hail falls from the sky with vengeance, striking his head and killing him instantly, much to the horror of a child watching from a window.

* * *

In Paris, a woman slides on ice. Her heels break as she falls and looks with shock at the early freeze.

* * *

In the British Isles, snow is dumped on the island. Fauchelevant, a professor, sits in his little station by the sea, a phone in hand. His old eyes are peeled on the screen in front of him, and a number comes to mind along with a name and with that name a familiar kindly brown face.

His old friend's words spring to mind, a flitty little factoid that Valjean told him during their last phone call. "_Fauchelevant, did you know that the ice age was caused by global warming? The melting of polar ice caps sent cold fresh water into the seas, causing the salination level to skew drastically, sending the world into chaos."_

"Hello?" Valjean's warm voice crinkles over the speaker.

"It's happening," Fauchelevant whispers.

"What is?"

"Three buoys have registered a drop in ocean temperatures by the poles. A whole thirteen degrees within 24 hours. Jean—"

"But, I didn't predict it to happen for another hundred years or so!" Valjean sounds horrified, but Fauchelevant is filled with grim acceptance.

"You'd best prepare, old friend." With that, Fauchelevant hangs up.

* * *

**Please review! I don't bite, I promise :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"It's a shame that it's raining so much," Cosette mourns. "I would've liked to see the city a bit more."

"Well, you can always come back. I'll probably come back…. not with you that is— unless you want me to?" Marius stutters. Cosette just laughs her tinkling laugh while Courfeyrac's leg bounces impatiently.

"Look," Courfeyrac leans forward to talk to the taxi driver. "We're really late."

"Sir, there is no way for me to control traffic!" The cabbie responds. Courfeyrac sits back on his butt with a huff of disappointment.

"How far are we from Corinthe?" Cosette asks. Marius's shaking hands retrieve a map from his pocket and he reads what it says there.

"Only a block," he tells her. Cosette frowns for a moment before seizing her purse and pushing over Courfeyrac.

"What are you doing, woman?" he barks. Cosette, with great difficulty, forces the door open. She shoves him out because, being Courfeyrac, he didn't have his seatbelt on.

"Getting us to the conference, _man_," Cosette shoots back. "Come on, Marius."

* * *

The group from DC comes in several minutes late, much to Enjolras's chagrin. However, when he sees their hair plastered to their flushed faces, a touch of pity melts a corner of his heart. "Come in. You're lucky I don't close the door on you," he scolds.

One of them, a boy with particularly passionate nostrils, beams and slaps Enjolras's shoulder as he passes. "Thanks!"

"Don't touch me," Enjolras mutters. Once they're inside, he closes the door against the heavy rain and follows them into the conference hall. The group of three finds their table and sits there, assembling their things around them. In the meantime, Enjolras's history professor reads questions from the podium.

"The significant battle that drove Islamic forces from Spain in 753 is dubbed 'the battle of…'" he says in a droning voice. Enjolras watches the participants with amusement. He is genuinely surprised at how many of them struggle over the answer.

The new group raises their paper at the same time that Éponine's hand shoots into the air. Enjolras inwardly roots for the new group as he weaves through the desks to where a strawberry-blond-haired girl holds their answer with pride. He sees another volunteer NYU student making his way to Éponine

Enjolras looks at the answer. "The battle of Tours," he reads. The professor nods his assent.

The other student says, "The battle of Poitiers."

"Both are correct," the professor says. Éponine shoots Enjolras a smug look, and he scowls at her as he moves back to his waiting place in the corner.

* * *

They break in the evening once a winner is announced. Neither the home school nor the kids from Musain High win. Instead, it is some school all the way from California.

The History students all rendezvous in the school's cafeteria that night for a formal dinner. Marius pulls his tie away from his neck while Courfeyrac rolls his eyes at his friend. "You tied it wrong."

"I figured that out," Marius tells him. Courfeyrac sighs. "Before you say anything, I am waiting for someone else to offer to fix it."

"Cosette?"

"'Cosette' what?" A familiar voice speaks from behind them. They jump, only to turn and see Cosette beautifully dressed in a tasteful yellow dress that hugs her torso and hangs in a loose, curtain-like skirt. Her petite stature is made less so by a pair of high heels that have already turned her exposed heels and toes red.

"'Cosette' nothing!" Marius responds, realizing a moment too late how stupid he sounds. Cosette just laughs, thankfully.

"Hey, you guys did really well today," the girl from the home school comes up to them in a stunning red number that is bordering on slinky. Her white teeth stand out against her bronze skin and her cherry-red lips. Her dark eyes are made sultry by silver eyeliner.

"My, you are simply beautiful," Courfeyrac compliments, taking the girl's hand and kissing the skin on the back of her hand. "Can we get a name from the lady?"

"I'm no lady," the girl informs Courfeyrac, prying her hand away from him. "I'm just Éponine. And you are?"

"I'm Courfeyrac," he responds. "And these two idiots," he motions to Cosette and Marius, "are Marius and Cosette. And they're in love."

Ignoring the aforementioned pair's loud protests to this, Éponine says to Courfeyrac, "They didn't seem like idiots during the conference. They answered all the questions without you, unless I'm wrong."

Put off, Courfeyrac rocks back on his heels. Cosette giggles. "I like you," she says to Éponine.

"Good," the girl smiles briefly, allowing them another flash of her teeth. "Not many people do."

"OH MY GOD!" Someone cries. All the chattering heads in the room turn towards the NYU volunteer student, who is trailed by a pale Enjolras. Éponine leaves the DC kids to go to him.

When he sees her, Enjolras's jaw drops for a moment before he slams it back into place. Still his eyes seem to be taking in her appearance. Éponine can't help but feel a touch smug; let him get a good look at what he'll never have due to his asshole tendencies.

"Enjolras, what's happening?" she asks him. He just shakes his head.

"It's…. It's something strange," is all he says. "Come with me," he takes her wrist and leads her to a nearby classroom, where a television is playing on a news station.

At first, Éponine assumes that the image currently on screen is from a movie. However, if Enjolras's pale face and clammy hands are any indication, it's all too real. She gapes, unable to attain any other reaction.

"_—the tornado just picked up the Hollywood sign!__"_ the newscaster says. "And with it is the entirety of downtown Los Angeles,"

Another terrifying image replaces that of the ruined Hollywood hill. It is of the LA skyline cut through with not one, not two, but _three_ monstrous tornados. Éponine unconsciously clings to Enjolras. Outside, rain beats the roof viciously.

"Mom? Mom? Answer please!" one of the California kids comes rushing into the classroom as well, trailed by his teammates. He is shouting into a cell phone, and the other kids are begging to use it next.

"That's a tragedy," Éponine says almost to herself. "Think of how many people were there…"

"Think of how many weren't," Enjolras points to the three kids who lucked out and escaped certain death. "Sometimes you've got to be optimistic."

"Update!" With that word, all attention is turned back to the screen. More people have come into the classroom now, and Éponine and Enjolras can feel just about the entirety of the conference attendees behind them. "All air travel in the United States and in Europe has been suspended! Los Angeles is not the only place suffering from extreme weather, and unfortunately it is too late for two planes who crashed due to turbulence into the Atlantic Ocean,"

"One in a trillion, huh?" Marius says grumpily to Courfeyrac.

"How are we going to get home?" Someone asks. It is as if that is a domino, for suddenly everyone is shouting over everyone else, trying to think of the best way to return home.

"Attention!" Éponine's principal comes into the room, trailed by Enjolras's professor. "All out-of-state students must find lodging for the night until we can find a way to get you home safely. If you live within fifty miles of the city, I'm going to request that you call your parents and tell them that you need immediate assistance."

Someone grabs Éponine's arm. She looks back to see the girl from earlier. "Is there any chance we could stay with you?"

Thinking of her shitty apartment and how crowded it already is, Éponine shakes her head vigorously. "There isn't, I'm sorry."

"Way to be a snob," Enjolras's hand is suddenly gone from her wrist, and he is sneering at her. "Would it be so hard to open your home for a night?"

"Don't you say _anything_," Éponine screams. She feels eyes upon her, but her red vision is tunneled on the neat NYU student in front of her. She could live with his holier-than-thou attitude, she could live with his annoying savior complex—hell, she could even live with what he did to Grantaire. But it is suddenly as if everything that he's ever done to tick her off boils over when he pretends to know her home situation. "You don't share a bedroom with three other kids. You don't come home to drunk parents every night. You don't have to work fifteen hours every weekend to pay for tuition, even with a scholarship. You can't say_ anything_," she snaps, pushing her way past the goggling students. Tears burn in her eyes.

The rain mocks her. It says, _there's no escaping to the streets tonight_.

* * *

"Come on, we need to get to the train station before—" Cosette shouts over her shoulder.

"Ma'am," an officer stops her. "I couldn't help but overhear, and I'm sorry to tell you that the train stations are closed, as are all the outgoing tunnels."

Cosette practically crumples from disappointment. Marius is there to steady her and even fishes her purse out of the knee-high water that pools around them. It seems to be rising with every second. Courfeyrac struggles through the water far behind them.

"Could we go back to your dorm, do you think?" Marius asks Enjolras, who shrugs.

"I mean, sure. Unless you want to sit this out for a little bit, see if things calm down," he suggests. Cosette nods into Marius's shoulder.

"That sounds like a plan," she whispers.

"My friend's working a shift at the library right now," Enjolras says, pointing at the nearby building of the New York Public library. A little Latino boy with a dog sits on the steps. They start towards it, Cosette and Marius still supporting each other. Enjolras walks far behind them, watching the rain with a strange feeling in his heart.

"EVERYONE OFF THE STREETS!" a familiar voice screams. Enjolras sees Éponine run out to the steps, a library name tag around her neck. He didn't know that she and Combeferre worked together. "NOW!"

She takes the boy by the hand and allows him and his dog to go inside. Enjolras pushes Cosette and Marius along, registering the urgency in his rival's voice. Éponine spots the four of them trudging through the deep water and motions towards the library. They hurry, protecting their eyes against the onslaught of rain as it pelts them. Enjolras walks with his head straight and his eyes on Éponine, who is helping as many people into the shelter of the library as she can.

They are at the foot of the steps when, suddenly, her eyes seem to catch on to something in the near distance. Éponine takes off down the steps. She pushes past Courfeyrac before rushing into the crowded street. Confused, Enjolras turns to see what she is so intent on reaching.

It turns out to rather be a who rather than a what. Enjolras assumes that Éponine is running to a teenage boy and girl who are sprinting to meet her. The girl looks like a younger, skinnier, rougher version of Éponine while the boy is someone Enjolras has seen loitering on the Corinthe campus.

Most importantly, Enjolras sees what is sending the boy and girl running their way along with a whole hoard of people. The screams make sense, suddenly, along with the sudden swell of people trying to make it through the library doors.

At first Enjolras thinks that it must be a trick of the eye; there is no way that this could be happening to his city. But there is also no way that it could be false, as the usually unshakeable New Yorkers are actually sent running as if from the most fearsome creature from a horror movie.

Rising nearly to the height of the skyline is a wall of water. Enjolras sees it break around a sky scraper, sending a frothy splash into the rainy air. He nearly screams at the sight of New York being swallowed by water.

His eyes flash down to the girl weaving through the drowning traffic. The water reaches her waist. _She's going to die_, he thinks numbly.

"ÉPONINE!" he yells. "YOU IDIOT! GET BACK HERE!"

She doesn't even turn.

Enjolras curses and runs towards her. By the time he's close to her, so are the running teenagers. He seizes her around the waist and slings her over the shoulder. He hears her yelling, but he's running and cannot heed her protests. Beside him, the boy looks over his shoulder.

"HOLY SHIT!" he yells.

They are on the steps when the gushing water catches up to them. Enjolras catches sight of the boy and girl flinging themselves into the library and, thinking at the last minute, he throws Éponine in the general direction of the door. The water hits his back and he is slammed against the wall of the library.

As several thousand tons of water keep him pressed against a building, Enjolras's head is sent reeling against the stone and everything goes black.

* * *

"Did you see the news?" Fauchelevant questions. Valjean sets down his coffee cup and stares at his computer monitor, which shows a projection of his prediction of the storm.

"About LA?" he asks. There is a little grunt of ascension on the other line. "This is just going to keep happening, isn't it?" Valjean worries as he looks at the images.

"There's also a deadly hail storm down in Tokyo," Fauchelevant says. "And the entirety of northern Europe has been rendered unlivable."

"Wait," Valjean frowns and shifts the phone to his other ear. "Then why—"

"We're snowed in." Fauchelevant says grimly. "There's no hope for us old boys. At least Myriel saw his sister before this started. Poor father Mabeuf is trapped up here with us; he came to bring me communion and now…"

"Fauchelevant, are you sure that there's no way out?"

"Now, Jean, don't you get stupid on me," he chastises. "You know that there isn't—" he suddenly cuts off. "oh my God—"

On Fauchelevant's line, someone yells, "Don't use the Lord's name in vain!"

"Sorry, Father!" Fauchelevant yells. Then his voice is clear in Valjean's ear. "You should see this; there's just been a tsunami…"

"Where?"

"New York."

* * *

"That fucking _idiot_!" Éponine screams, nearly on the verge of tears. Montparnasse and Courfeyrac are just barely holding her back from jumping out the window and into the three-storey high water. A dripping wet Azelma is huddled under a blanket and is sitting close to one of the library assistants, a public-school girl named Feuilly.

"I'll go after him," Marius, a boy Éponine hardly knows, offers. The girl beside him, Cosette, looks terrified.

"Marius, don't!"

"I didn't join the swim team for no reason," Marius says bravely. Cosette manages a thin smile up at Marius. However, the boy who stands between them just rolls his eyes.

"Yes, you literally did," Courfeyrac speaks up, exasperation in his voice. "You said it was the only sport you didn't have to try out for,"

Marius flushes when Cosette sniggers. He hurries to redeem himself, snapping: "That's not the point."

"Marius, you go see if you can find Enjolras," Cosette places her hand on Marius's arm. "Good luck," after a moment's consideration, Cosette presses her lips to his. His face is priceless when she pulls away, however Cosette does not spare him a look. "Éponine," she says to the distraught brunette, "You're coming with me."

"Where are we going?" Éponine asks grumpily as she is tugged away from the window. Cosette flounces rather than struts, and where most would walk she floats.

"There's a pay phone nearby. I have to call my parents. You should do the same," Cosette advises.

"Mine could care less. The phone's all yours," Éponine laughs, but it is a hollow sound.

* * *

Fantine sobs hopelessly. The television shows New York drowning. Her baby girl is somewhere in the water, either dead or dying, all alone. Valjean paces angrily next to her.

"It's not hopeless," he tries to tell her.

"Don't lie, you see that city. Our baby is gone," Fantine whispers. Valjean can feel his own tears coming, but he fights them for his wife's sake. He takes her into his arms and soothes her hair away from her wet and swollen face. She fits snugly into his comfort. Even in their distress, they feel safe in each other's arms.

Just then, their phone rings.

They freeze, both filled with equal amounts of fear and hope. Fantine finally rushes to the phone and picks it up. "Hello?" She chokes out. After a moment, she makes a relieved cry. "Cosette!"

Valjean lunges to her and wrestles the phone from her hands. "Cosette?"

"Daddy?" she says.

"Oh, baby," he breathes. "Where are you?"

"The New York public library," she tells him. "There's a whole group of us here,"

"Listen to me, no matter what, stay there. Soon the storm is going to get to the point where it will kill you if you go outside."

"Dad, what—"

"Cosette, please listen. You need to stay in shelter. Burn whatever you have and ration your food carefully. _Stay inside_, do you hear me? I'm coming for you!"

"Daddy," Cosette says quickly Valjean can hear something that sounds like splashing water on the other end. "Can you call Jared Courfeyrac's parents and Marius Pontmercy's grandfather and tell them that they're alright?"

"Yes, of course. Cosette? Honey, I l—"

Suddenly, there is a terrible static noise on Cosette's end. Valjean freezes, feeling Fantine's vice-like grip on his upper arm. "Cosette?"

"Dad—" the static returns, followed by the terribly morbid sound of dialtone.

Breathing heavily, Valjean sets the phone back down. "I didn't get to tell Cosette that I love her."

"Are you really going after her?" his wife whispers. When he nods seriously, she crumbles again. "I'm going to lose you too,"

He does not tell her that she's wrong.

* * *

"Cosette?" Éponine calls, looking at the water where the other girl vanished. "Cosette?"

Moments later, a reddish blond head appears from the depths of the water. She gasps for air and swims over to where Éponine waits on the steps. Éponine helps Cosette up to sit on the stairs. The girls look back at where the payphones used to be before the water lapped up around Cosette's waist and then over her head.

"Come on," Éponine pulls Cosette's wet blouse away from her. "Let's get you into dry clothes."

A shivering Cosette nods. "And let's see if they got Enjolras."

Éponine sighs. "I hope he's alive—" her voice quivers, and Cosette thinks that she can see tears in the other girl's eyes. Suddenly, Éponine looks back over to Cosette, a sneer on her face. "So that I can kill him myself."

* * *

Enjolras feels the cold before anything else—his entire body is numb and in some places the cold is painful enough that even trying to move sends flaming daggers of pain up his spine. He groans and forces his heavy eyes open. Enjolras registers a high ceiling and several concerned faces hovering over him.

"Enjolras?" Combeferre asks. His voice seems like it's coming from the bottom of a pool. However, Enjolras's hearing returns in time for him to hear a shrieking female voice nearby.

"Enjolras, you _hijueputa!_ _¿estás loco, __cara de monda__?" _Éponine's face appears nearby his, her expression twisted into one of fury. Dimly, Enjolras thinks that anger suits her; Éponine's flushed cheeks and wet, messy hair paired with her glowing eyes do something to him.

"I don't know what you're saying," Enjolras's tongue is heavy.

"You don't want to know," the teenage girl who Enjolras assumes is Éponine's sister laughs. Éponine is not amused, though, and her hands come to clutch Enjolras's wet collar. She tugs him into a sitting position.

Imploringly, she asks in English, "Why did you come back for me?"

Thinking of it, Enjolras can't say why. Instead, he just snaps back, "You're welcome."

It's the wrong thing to say. Éponine's hand snaps the air before coming to land full-force on his cheek. The slapping sound rings in the crowded library, and Enjolras's cold cheek explodes with pain. He actually yelps at the contact.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" she hisses.

"What, save you?"

"Try to have the last say and then go and die on me," she seems to realize that it doesn't make any sense, because she drops him back to the hard surface of the table and storms off.

"Hey, Enjolras, you should come see this," a nervous Combeferre says to him. With his friend's help, Enjolras stands unsteadily and gladly takes the dry (if outdated) clothing that is offered to him. After looking around and deciding that there's no use for modesty anymore, Enjolras strips down to his boxers before pulling on over-large sweat pants and a green knit poncho.

He and Combeferre deviate from the crowded main room of the library to walk into the hallway, where broken floor-length windows give them a view of the city.

"Holy shit," Enjolras comments. Next to him, Combeferre nods.

A few feet below the window sill, the water splashes against the library. The sky is still sending reused water to the city, but this time in the form of flurrying snowflakes. The sight is eerie—

Water laps around the New York skyline. A taxi cab sinks slowly nearby, and Enjolras gags when he sees the people still trapped in the back seat.

"Is this the end of the world?" the little boy from the stairs must have followed them, for he and his dog now stand just behind Combeferre and Enjolras.

"No—" Enjolras starts to answer, but Combeferre's grimness beats him to it.

"It just might be, little man."


End file.
